The night my father decided my future, rain was beating against the windows like it wanted to break in and save me.
I stood at the top of the staircase, fingers curled tightly around the polished wooden railing, listening to the low murmur of voices drifting up from the living room. My father's voice was calm,too calm the way it always was when he had already made up his mind. My mother's voice, on the other hand, trembled with restrained fury.
"No," she said, her voice sharp and wounded at the same time. "You cannot do this. You will not do this."
I swallowed hard.
Whatever this was, it had already gone too far.
I took a step down, then another, my bare feet cold against the marble. The house felt different tonight, too quiet, too heavy. The Kingsley mansion had always been large, but tonight it felt like a prison built with money and silence.
When I reached the last step, I stopped.
My parents were standing opposite each other, like enemies instead of husband and wife.
My father, Richard Kingsley, stood tall and unyielding in his tailored suit, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked every inch the powerful man the world knew. CEO, tycoon, respected businessman. To the outside world, he was admirable. To me, he had always been distant.
My mother, Evelyn Kingsley, stood with her arms crossed over her chest, her face pale but her eyes blazing. She looked smaller than my father, but there was fire in her that had never dimmed, no matter how many years she had spent in this house.
I cleared my throat softly.
Both of them turned to look at me.
The room fell into a suffocating silence.
"What's going on?" I asked, forcing my voice to sound steady. "I could hear you from upstairs."
My father's gaze softened, just a fraction but it didn't reach his eyes. "Aria," he said. "Come here."
I didn't move.
Something in my chest tightened, warning me that whatever he was about to say would change everything.
My mother reached for me instead. She crossed the room in quick steps and gripped my hand, her fingers cold. "You don't need to be here," she said gently, but there was fear in her eyes. "This conversation is not for you."
That alone was enough to terrify me.
"Whatever it is," I said quietly, "it concerns me. I can tell."
My father exhaled, slow and controlled, like a man preparing to deliver a verdict. "Sit down."
I obeyed, lowering myself onto the edge of the sofa. My mother remained standing beside me, one hand resting protectively on my shoulder.
My father faced us both.
"There is a situation," he began, "that threatens everything this family has built."
My heart sank.
"The Kingsley Group is in danger," he continued. "A hostile takeover. Billions are at stake."
I frowned. "But I thought"
"You thought we were untouchable," he interrupted. "So did I."
My mother scoffed bitterly. "And your solution," she said, "is to sell our daughter like a bargaining chip?"
I froze.
Sell me?
My father's jaw tightened. "Do not twist my words."
"I don't need to," my mother shot back. "You're doing a fine job yourself."
I looked from one to the other, confusion giving way to dread. "Dad," I said slowly, "what is she talking about?"
He met my gaze directly.
"You are going to get married."
The words hit me like a slap.
The room tilted.
"What?"
"To a man who can protect this family," my father said. "A man with the resources and influence we need."
My ears rang. "You're joking."
He didn't blink.
"I have already agreed to the arrangement."
My mother let out a broken laugh. "Arrangement," she repeated. "Listen to yourself."
I stood up abruptly, my legs shaking. "You agreed to what arrangement?"
My father straightened. "You will marry Dominic Blackwood."
The name echoed in my mind, heavy and ominous.
Dominic Blackwood.
Even I knew that name.
Everyone did.
The billionaire who appeared on magazine covers but never gave interviews. The youngest CEO to ever dominate three industries at once. A man known for his ruthlessness, his cold demeanor, and his refusal to mix business with emotion.
A man rumored to destroy anyone who crossed him.
"I don't even know him," I whispered.
"You don't need to," my father replied. "This is not about love."
My mother's hand tightened painfully on my shoulder. "Richard, stop," she said. "You promised me you would never drag her into your wars."
"And I promised to protect this family," he said. "Including her."
I laughed, a hollow sound that surprised even me. "By forcing me to marry a stranger?"
"A powerful stranger," he corrected.
My chest burned. "You can't make me do this."
My father's eyes hardened. "I can."
Silence crashed down again.
My mother stepped forward. "If you do this," she said, her voice trembling, "you will lose her. And you will lose me."
He hesitated for half a second.
Then. "This decision is final."
Something inside me broke.
I pulled away from my mother's grip and backed away, my heart pounding wildly. "You don't get to decide my life," I said, my voice shaking now. "I'm not a contract. I'm not a deal."
My father's voice lowered. "If you refuse," he said, "your mother loses everything."
I stopped breathing.
"What?" My voice came out barely audible.
"The properties in her name," he continued coldly. "The foundations she funds. The medical wing she built. All of it collapses if this company falls."
My mother stared at him in disbelief. "You would blackmail your own daughter?"
"I am giving her a choice," he said.
I felt sick.
This wasn't a choice.
This was a cage.
I turned to my mother, tears blurring my vision. "Mum"
She cupped my face, her own eyes wet. "You don't have to do this," she whispered fiercely. "I won't let him."
But we both knew the truth.
She already had.
I looked back at my father. "If I marry him," I asked slowly, "what does he get?"
My father paused.
Then, "You."
My stomach twisted.
"And what do I get?"
He didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
The rain outside grew louder, thunder rumbling in the distance.
I hugged myself, feeling smaller than I ever had in my life. "When?" I asked.
My father's voice was steady, decisive.
"Soon."
I nodded numbly.
Because what else could I do?
As I turned and walked away, my mother's quiet sob followed me up the stairs, echoing through the house like a funeral cry.
In my room, I closed the door and slid down against it, my knees pulled to my chest.
Dominic Blackwood.
A billionaire.
A stranger.
A husband I never chose.
And somehow the man who now owned my future.
I pressed my forehead to my knees and whispered to the empty room,
"I'm sorry."
But I didn't know who I was apologizing to anymore.